


Checkmate

by GretchenSinister



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23087119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GretchenSinister/pseuds/GretchenSinister
Summary: Original Prompt: "Pitch is actually a guardian, but not of joy, hope or gifts. He is the guardian of life, and the one he guards humans against is Death. Because fear is a basic survival mechanism, and throughout the ages and cultures the Boogeymen have been utilized not only to ensure not only good behavior but also survival (don’t talk to stranger, it might be the boogeyman who will carry you off…etc).So I kind of want something where the Guardians have to deal with this fact, and the repercussions of Pitch loosing at the end of the movie. Because ops, kids (and grown-ups) aren’t scared off strangers or dark alleys like they used to.+1000 if Death is personified as an old, knitting or weaving grandmother (the crone, Pesta, Giltine etc.), but still really creepy (and a bit annoyed at the Jack for his “rebirth”.+10 000 if Pitch is like “no shit, sherlock”, it’s kind of obvious."Okay, title because I can’t let go of the “playing chess with Death” trope. Which it turns out Sandy had to do. Fill is mostly Pitch and Sandy being snarky bastards to each other after movie events. Sandy knows what’s up but is tired of being the only one with this knowledge.
Relationships: Pitch Black/Sanderson Mansnoozie
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29
Collections: Blacksand Short Fics





	Checkmate

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr on 8/7/2013.

The small, heavy object hits Pitch in the temple, a sharp corner breaking his skin. Dark blood flows sluggishly down his face and he laughs wildly, like a car fishtailing on an icy road, as he searches through the dust of his lair for whatever it was that hit him. In a few moments he finds it: a king from a chess set made of black marble. His laugh rings out again. “Come out where I can see you,” he calls.  
  
Sandy appears from behind one of the crazily tilted staircases, frowning sternly at Pitch.  
  
“Oh, come on, little man,” Pitch says, grinning and tossing the chess piece from one hand to another. “That was uncalled for.” The king is icy cold to the touch, and doesn’t warm with handling. “After all, you did win.”  
  
 _I had to cheat the Old Woman._ Sandy signs.  
  
Pitch quickly raises his hairless brows. “You know you can’t cheat Death.  
  
 _Well, then she let me cheat. And she started letting me cheat when she found out how I died._  
  
“How curious,” Pitch says, wiping the blood on his face away with his sleeve and trying, and failing, to repair the cut with a touch of his finger. “Will you look at this?” He indicates the wound. “You all really did a number on me. I can even bleed now, _what_ is the world coming to?”  
  
 _You want me to kiss it and make it better?_  
  
“I’d rather you teach me the art of being sarcastic without a tone of voice,” Pitch replies, calling up some nightmare sand and forming it into a chair. He sits down, smirking up at Sandy.  
  
 _You knew she wouldn’t take me._ He floats closer to Pitch. _You just wanted me out of the way for a while._  
  
Pitch examines his nails, looks displeased with what he sees, and looks back at Sandy. “I suppose that when I killed you I _was_ aware of the high probability that Death would refuse to take you away from me permanently, given that I am one of the few that don’t fear her and have in fact been working directly against her for most of my considerable existence. She would never want to do anything that could be perceived as a benefit to me.”  
  
 _My death would be a benefit to you? That’s hurtful, Pitch._  
  
“You’re doing it again! Well, it _was_ a benefit in my attempt to take over the world. Also we’re on a break and I’m a horrible person.”  
  
Sandy rolls his eyes. _If my death didn’t stick because of your grudge against the Old Woman, then it’s not too much of a stretch to guess that your grudge might have affected other aspects of the past few days, right?_  
  
“Whatever can you be talking about?”  
  
 _Jack told me what he saw in his memories. His death didn’t stick either. And your little world domination attempt has worked out to be an enormous benefit to him. Well, he must have been one of the Old Woman’s least favorite people to begin with. And now, what you, her other least favorite person, did, just happened to improve his lot considerably?_  
  
“So you’re suggesting that I, the Boogeyman, partook in a whole host of horrible deeds, including killing you, in order to help out a poor frost spirit, so as to piss off Death even more than I have already, with full knowledge that I would also get you back—”  
  
 _After a great deal of pain and inconvenience to myself._  
  
“—thus enabling me to have my cake and eat it too? Now, really, Sandy, is that something the Nightmare King would do?”  
  
 _No, you jackass! But it is something a Guardian of Survival who was a malicious and snarky bastard with no support structure would do._  
  
Pitch frowns at him. “So what do you intend to do with this insight?”  
  
 _Now, Pitch, who would I tell? No one else can understand me anyway._  
  
Pitch folds his arms and looks at him levelly. “You’re not done talking, so don’t act like you are.”  
  
Sandy shakes his head. _You know me all too well._ Pitch yelps as dreamsand ropes suddenly appear around him, binding his arms and legs. _Or maybe not. Look here, Pitch. You’re the Guardian of Survival, and I’m kind of tired of being the only one you’ve graced with that knowledge. So you’re going to come with me and meet the other Guardians, and explain yourself._  
  
“I’m not going to make nice with them,” Pitch hisses, struggling against the dreamsand ropes.  
  
 _You don’t have to be nice, you just have to be clear. I don’t want any more subterfuge. MiM is frustratingly cryptic enough as it is. And if you do this, I will kiss you better in front of the rest of them._  
  
“Oh? Does that mean our break is ending while I can still model your body from memory? That’s quick.”  
  
Sandy lightly smacks the uninjured side of his head. _Cool it. Now get ready. They’re probably wondering why I’m late for their gathering already._

**Author's Note:**

> [I feel like being able to mentally create a three-dimensional model of someone is a sign of intimacy, even if you do crush it immediately afterwards.]


End file.
